


The Nightmares

by still_lycoris



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-29
Updated: 2010-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25377325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Gwaine's a knight of Camelot now but his past still haunts him.
Relationships: Gwaine & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	The Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2010 12daysofchristmas so Gwaine's past is no longer canonical.

The nightmare came again.

He had had it nearly every night since Arthur had knighted him. Sometimes it was his mother in the dream, sometimes it was Agravain. But usually, it was his stepfather.

“Look at you. Nothing but a waste of space. Do you know how many nights your ma’s cried over you, boy? How many nights she’s sat and worried that you're dead?”

“I’m not dead,” Gwaine offered up. “I’ve written to her. I send messages all the time … ”

“ _Messages?_ You think your Ma wants some scrappy bit of parchment, telling her that you're “just fine”? Or some slack-jawed yokel telling her that you’ve been in some random town a hundred miles back? Worthless brat! Your brothers miss you too, you know that? God knows why when you never gave a shit what happened to them!”

“I’ve sent money. I’ve done my best.”

“Your Ma don’t want yer money! She wants you, although heaven knows why she wants a no good, waster like you!”

“I’m not a waster!” Gwaine protested. “I’m a knight of Camelot, I …”

“ _You?_ A knight? Don’t make me laugh! Who’d want a drunken rutting whore like you to be a knight?”

“I’m not … I don’t … ”

“You're worthless! There’s no one out there that cares about you!”

He usually woke up then, soaked in a cold sweat, shaking and gasping for air. Sometimes the words differed slightly but the gist was always the same.

Gwaine staggered out of bed and drifted out of his room. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping again for a while. The words _drunken rutting whore_ wouldn’t leave his mind. He’d been made a knight because Arthur was desperate, not because of his skills. Perhaps Arthur already regretting his choice. Perhaps …

He tried to smile at himself. How ridiculous to even care. If the prince regretted his choice, well, what did that matter to Gwaine? He could move on, go back to his travels. He missed sleeping under the sky and gambling and drinking. Now he was a knight, he was having to cut down on all of that and wasn’t it a boring life? He’d much preferred his old freedoms ...

To his frustration, it was only partially true. Was it that he didn’t want to have failed at something? Was it that he cared for the people here? It was … nice to have people around you that cared. Nice to have comrades that at least seemed to like you. Oh, Lancelot and Leon both clearly had their reservations but they were friendly enough. Percival and Elyan were clearly impressed by him and that was pretty nice. The other knights were less sure of him but they admired his skills. And there was Arthur, who had mostly kept his distance from all of them at the moment but always offered a smile and nod. And there was Merlin.

He realised he was standing in the courtyard and shivered. Winter was coming on and there was a bite of frost to the air. He wasn’t wearing boots or a shirt. Not really very wise. He was turning to go back in when someone whistled and he looked up.

Arthur was at the window, staring down at him. Gwaine attempted a cheery smile and raised his hand. Arthur blinked, then called softly “Come up.”

Gwaine blinked, then grinned. He knew what Arthur had meant of course, but he couldn’t resist showing off. He’d probably regret it in the morning, but what the hell?

Moving to the wall, he eyed it for a second, then began his ascent. Arthur had moved away from the window, clearly expecting to be obeyed in a more normal fashion. It wasn’t a great wall for climbing – the stone was mostly smooth. Earlier in the year, it would have been impossible. But the rage of Lady Morgana had left its mark here too and Gwaine found enough hand and footholds to get up to the window.

Arthur was sitting on a chair by the embers of the fire. It was the only light in the room bar one pathetically flickering candle. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Gwaine pushed the window open.

“What the bloody hell?”

“You told me to come up,” Gwaine said cheerfully.

Arthur moved over to help him in, clearly trying not to laugh. Gwaine lost some skin on the window ledge but it had been worth it.

“You’re an idiot,” Arthur told him, his voice warm. “You could have got yourself killed.”

“But I didn’t,” Gwaine said. “Now, what are you doing up at this late hour, oh prince?”

Arthur pulled a face. 

“I fell asleep over the table,” he said, quietly. “It’s … not comfortable so I woke up. Some of us need to sleep in comfort.”

Gwaine thought it was an oddly pointed remark and was opening his mouth to reply when he realised who Arthur was really talking about. Curled up close to the fireplace was Merlin, his head resting on one of Arthur’s boots. Gwaine raised an eyebrow at Arthur.

“I don’t know,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “The idiot. I bet he’s drooling on the leather.”

Gwaine thoughtfully took the guttering candle and looked around for fresh ones. Most of the ones in place had burned out. Clearly Arthur and Merlin had both fallen asleep while they were still lit. Arthur slumped down in the chair again. Gwaine was about to make a joke about Arthur being lazy when he saw just how tired the prince looked. After a moment, he put the candle down. They didn’t need light anyway.

“Working late?” he asked.

“There’s more to do than I thought,” Arthur said quietly. “I mean … I knew it would be hard, I knew … but there’s more than I imagined.”

“Does your father help at all?” Gwaine asked as lightly as he could.

Arthur stiffened and Gwaine looked away. No one talked about the king, except in hushed tones. They said he was ill but no one spoke about the nature of the illness and Gwaine was pretty sure he knew why that had to be.

“He’s … very weak,” Arthur said and Gwaine wondered if the word choice was on purpose. 

“I see,” he said simply and sat down beside Merlin. Merlin shifted slightly and murmured, hugging his boot tighter. Gwaine had to grin.

“He’s been helping me a lot,” Arthur said. “Too much, perhaps. I don’t know. I feel … how are the knights doing? I miss training. Are you doing well? Has Sir Bors sat on any of you yet?”

“Sir Bors has sat on all of us,” Gwaine said, his back twinging at the memory. “He has however, fallen in love with Sir Percival and they are clearly going to get married but I’m not sure which will wear the dress.”

Arthur began to laugh. He laughed rather more than the jest warranted and Gwaine looked at him rather anxiously. Arthur’s eyes were perhaps a touch too bright.

“Sorry,” Arthur said at last. “Sorry. I just … they must be about the same size, mustn’t they? Don’t say that to Bors, whatever you do. He is not a fancier of other men and I would prefer you didn’t offend him.”

Gwaine snorted but didn’t comment. He stroked his fingers lightly through Merlin’s hair and looked at Arthur, who didn’t seem worried by the gesture.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Arthur asked.

Gwaine opened his mouth to offer up a casual answer but instead, the truth came out.

“Nightmares.”

Arthur shuddered and looked into the fire.

“What about?”

“Ah. Stuff,” Gwaine said. “Stupid stuff. Nothing that really warrants talking about.”

“But enough to get you out of bed at some godforsaken hour without dressing?” Arthur said caustically. 

Gwaine shrugged, accepting the truth of the remark. He looked back down at Merlin, preferring to focus on him than Arthur. Merlin looked stupidly small, curled there on the heath.

“Go through life like me, you pick up a few things,” he said. “Plenty worth having nightmares about.”

“I understand,” Arthur said. “I’ve had my own share of dreams.”

They fell into silence for a while. The embers of the fire cracked faintly. Merlin murmured something in his sleep and hunched up more. Gwaine continued to gently stroke his hair.

“Before winter sets in, can I send a message to my family?” he asked without really thinking about it.

“Of course,” Arthur said. “You can go yourself, if you like. They’ll be impressed, won’t they?”

Gwaine wondered. Would they be impressed? There had never been any love between him and his stepfather, he knew that would not have changed. Would his half brothers celebrate his return or would they only see the man who had abandoned them? Would his mother be glad he was following his father’s footsteps or horrified? Would they accept any gifts he offered or would they flinch away and say they didn’t need him? 

“Tell me about your family,” Arthur sounded a little wistful. “Do you have siblings?”

“Three half brothers,” Gwaine said. “Agravain, Gaheris and Gareth. My father died when I was a babe and my mother remarried in the end.”

“That must have been hard.”

“Well, I’m a strong man,” Gwaine said cheerfully. He looked at Arthur thoughtfully, then continued. “Anyway, my brothers were fun. I used to lead them astray, it was great. One time … ”

He began to recount half-forgotten stories of his childhood, idly stroking Merlin’s hair as he did so. He hadn’t realised how many happy stories there were until he began to tell them. Arthur curled in his chair and listened, laughing sometimes but mostly silent. Gwaine allowed his voice to lower, told more gentle stories of warm nights by the fireside and watched as Arthur’s eyes drooped shut. Only when he was certain that Arthur was asleep did he stop speaking and stand up. He knew he couldn’t lift Arthur from the chair so instead, he took a blanket from Arthur’s bed and folded it gently around him, tucking it in as securely as he could. Then he took another and laid it over Merlin.

“Don’t have to.” Merlin’s voice was soft. “I can go ... ‘wake now. You tell nice stories … ”

“Go back to sleep,” Gwaine ordered him. “Arthur will be glad to see you in the morning.”

“You should go home, Gwaine. They’ll be glad to see you. They will.”

Gwaine smiled. Merlin understood. He didn’t need to know any more to understand.

“Goodnight, Merlin,” he said.

“Sweet dreams, Gwaine.”

Gwaine slipped quietly out of the chamber and headed back to his own. Maybe tomorrow he’d organise a trip home. Maybe, if his mother was proud, he suggest that his brothers could be knights of Camelot too. It might be a while before they could take it up proper – Uther’s opinion on the non-noble knights wasn’t known – but they might like to know the offer was there. It would be good to see them all again. Good to say how much he’d missed them …

He went to sleep. And this time, there were no nightmares.


End file.
